


I'm Not An Idol

by Nines_Jameson



Series: Hybrid High [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Denial of Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26942359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nines_Jameson/pseuds/Nines_Jameson
Summary: Dream is a troublemaker, with shoes to fill from being born a Watcher, a prestigious father, and mother he never wanted to be a good idol. He didn't want to be some hero that everyone wanted of him, so instead he would seek out trouble. He stuck his nose where it didn't belong, and caused problems on purpose. That is until, one thing leads to another, and it falls out of hand. He's sent off to Hawkford Apprenticeship, where he is forced to dorm with a stranger, and his dad who is principal of this new school. He realizes he's slowly fallen for his dorm buddy, George, and refuses to believe it.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Hybrid High [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964422
Comments: 25
Kudos: 153





	1. Rocky Start

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place 2 years before Diamonds In The Dark! If you haven't read that I highly recommend going and checking it out! But you don't need to read it to get this story :)

“Perhaps an apprenticeship outside of your region will do you good.” 

Those words were the whole thing that led to this. Dream was sitting in the councilor’s office of the West American District, he had just turned 17, and now people actually expected him to be responsible, and be an adult. Especially as a Watcher, others always expected him to be prestigious, to be admirable, to be something  _ special _ . So he had done just about everything in his power to not be some sort of idol. He was reckless, he would actively seek out trouble, and stick his nose in it just for his own enjoyment. Of course this led to many  _ many _ calls home when he was younger, and now it had landed him here. He was seated in Mrs. Deeders office, and she had a simple old computer next to her. It was probably just as dusty and old as she was. Deeder was usually the old hag he was sent to whenever he had gotten into trouble again. 

His latest achievement? Well in Dream’s opinion, he was quite proud of it. Two weeks of meticulous planning for something that well. . .apparently his parents didn’t find it as amusing as he had. Now, what could he have possibly done to make even Mrs. Deeder mad at him? 

The farmer about half a mile down the road of the elementary had llamas. Dozens of llamas, they were well behaved, well, as behaved as a llama could be, and well Dream knew that during certain hours those llamas were unattended. So, stealing a bakers dozen or so wouldn’t be immediately noticed. A dozen leads weren’t hard to obtain either, and nor was finding doorstops to keep the doors to said school open. 

Twenty-two llamas set loose onto the 12 and 13 year olds had been hilarious to Dream, but the teachers and staff were less than amused. He had almost gotten away scott free, setting way too many fuzzy creatures into the halls, but he had ended up pulling the fire alarm in his attempt to shove past a pair and out the doors. So here he was, sitting on an old leather chair, in a stuffy dusty office, and a hag with her hands steepled in front of him.

He swallowed his pride, and held her dull gaze. How she wasn’t just a skeleton that burned in the daylight was beyond him, but of course now was not the time to ask. She sighed as she scrolled through a list, that went by too fast for him to catch until she clicked one, and spoke. 

“I think sending you to the Eastern American National district will be a good change for you. New people, new friends, and hopefully your behavior will improve.” 

He scoffed rolling his eyes as he sat back in the chair, and she frowned, “Dream Clay Taken, your behavior has gotten out of hand, and I’m afraid we just can’t tolerate this anymore. I already have the papers filled out, since your mother offered this a few weeks ago.” 

He paled slightly, even his mother was in on sending him off? Where was he going to be sent? Some lame military boarding school?

“Perhaps Hawkford Apprenticeship will be a good choice.” She said swiftly, already clicking through as his heart sank like a rock in the ocean. 

“Wait no, isn’t there somewhere else? Anywhere else? Mrs. Deeder please  _ please!”  _ He asked desperately, and she shook her head, if he wasn’t mistaken, her wrinkled face crackled with a hint of a yellowed smile. 

“Hawkford will be good for you. They actually offer quite a few good programs for young men like you.” 

He winced, his dark wings twitched behind him, as she sent through the documents to the school. There was nothing he could do to stop it either. Why was he so worried about Hawkford? That was where his father worked. Specifically, his dad was the  _ principal _ . Which basically meant that he was completely, and utterly fucked. 

He sat in the back of the small cab that was taking him to the school. He would be a sophomore as they had told him. Which just meant it was his second year of secondary school, and he would be living there. As if things couldn’t possibly be more stacked against him. His luggage was in the seat beside him, and his driver had tried to strike up conversation over the three hour drive. But Dream didn’t want to talk, so he just would respond with a grunt, or yes and no. Eventually they had fallen into a comfortable silence, which he much preferred. 

The white tires crunched on the gravel as they rolled up and into the driveway/ parking lot, which was almost entirely empty. Clearly cars weren’t commonplace here, which he supposed wasn’t too odd, since they were still fairly new to pretty much every district. As they rolled to a stop, he forced the little lock on his door open, grabbed his few suitcases, and got out of the car. Nothing against his taxi driver, but Dream was still furious he was being sent to a school. A school he had never been to, a school his dad ran, and most of all, he would be stuck sharing a room with a “well behaved goody two shoe shit”. Granted those weren’t the words Deeder used, but that’s what he had heard, and he would be stuck living with whoever this person was. 

Dream glanced at the sticky note he had attached to one suitcase, it had his room number and building supposedly. Deeder and his mother insisted that he was already scheduled and registered, so he wouldn’t have to check in like a guest. He shifted one bag slung over his shoulder, and turned down Hall D in the West Wing. He scanned the doors, he didn’t have a key or anything, so hopefully whoever he was trapped with would be home. He slowly raised a pale freckled hand and knocked, keeping his dark feathered wings close. 

He found himself holding his breath as he waited for someone to open the door. He waited a minute, and just as he was about to either knock again, or go to the office, and do a walk of shame back to his luggage with his own key, the door swung open. There was a shorter boy with dark brown hair that hung in his eyes. He had a pair of white rounded glasses on, which he adjusted as he opened the door, eyes scanning the hall for a split second before raising to see Dream. Dream just held his gaze, and he realized his Watcher height just made the boy  _ look _ short. He was probably average height, but since Dream stood at a towering 6’ 7” the boy was almost a foot shorter. The two just stood silently looking at each other, and Dream awkwardly cleared his throat. The shorter one seemed to frown slightly as he had to look a decent way up to meet Dream’s eyes, but it seemed more mild confusion than actual anger or annoyance. 

“Um. . .Hi?” He asked hesitantly, as he brushed a few blond curls from his face. 

The boy tilted his head, but smiled warmly and he opened the door more, gesturing for Dream to come in, “You must be my new roommate!” He had an accent, maybe a European or Oceana district? “You’re uh.. You’re taller than I expected.” 

Dream just nodded, brushing past him with his suitcases. He knew it was probably really rude, and would leave a bad taste in the other’s mouth of Dream’s personality.  _ Good.  _ Maybe if his roommate hated him, he could just get an excuse to leave, and just go home, or find a different school, one where he wouldn’t be bunked with some random boy, and one where his dad didn’t work. Yet somehow the shorter one didn’t seem deterred, he laughed softly and closed the door. 

“Long drive huh? I know the feeling, I’m George by the way! What’s your name?” The boy followed him, “Oh and that room on the left can be yours! This dorm is split into two bedrooms, which I suppose is fancy, but it gives us both privacy, anyways, your name?” 

Dream glanced sideways at George, looking to where he was pointing, and walked into the bedroom, “Dream” He said gruffly as he opened the door and just set his luggage down next to the small twin sized mattress. . .he would be too tall for it. Because yes he needed yet another reason to hate this place. 

“Dream? That’s a bit of an unusual name.” George said kindly, “Reminds me of Sapnap! When we first met.” 

Dream stopped, he instantly recognized the name, Sapnap and he had been best friends for years when they were younger. They both loved getting into trouble, and causing it too. But last summer the tanned boy had moved with his family, and they lost contact since Sapnap at the time didn’t have a communicator. 

“Wait you know Sapnap?” 

George looked up curiously, “Yeah! He and I were freshmen together, do you know him?” 

Dream paused, did his best friend really never mention Dream? He pushed away his hurt feelings and nodded, “Yeah we were friends before he moved.” 

Dream didn’t feel like continuing the topic, so he set his things down and shook his head, and walked back out into the main room where there was a small compact kitchen that was tidy, attached to a mini living room with a three man couch and a small tv. It wasn’t luxury, but he didn’t care, or want luxury. Simpler the better, it meant he wouldn’t care when he would find his way out of this place. George seemed insistent on talking to him though. 

“So Dream, how about some simple icebreakers? I’m from Britain, well the Great Britain District, how about you?” George offered a hesitant smile. 

“West American.” He was curt in his replies. 

“Oh, well I suppose that makes sense, is this the first time in the East American district?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You have any family here?” 

Dream paused, his green eyes darkened, as he leveled his gaze with George, “What do you care?” 

George frowned, faltering a little at the Watcher’s harsh tone, “I’m. . .just trying to make conversation. I get it you’re probably tired, but you could be a little nicer. I mean I know the dorm isn’t the cleanest but. . .” He trailed off as he sat at the counter. 

Dream glanced around the small room again, a bored and disinterested motion, but it gave him something to do. It wasn’t the cleanest necessarily, but it wasn’t messy to the point that he would be angry. A set of bright colors caught his eye, and he noticed a neatly folded gay pride flag draped over the back of the sofa. How had he missed that the first time? George seemed to be trying to hurriedly pick up the few items on the floor, when he followed Dream’s gaze to the flag. 

“You’re gay?” He regretted the words before they even finished leaving his mouth, and he internally cringed at himself for being so blunt. 

George paused, glancing over at the flag, and gave a hesitant smile, “Yeah I am.” He seemed so casual about saying that, so calm. 

Dream envied that in the british boy. He had grown up in a very unwelcoming environment. While his mother had never really said anything  _ against _ the LGBTQ+ community, she wasn’t exactly always open to the topics, and so he never asked or brought it up. His neighbors and school kids would make snide and sour comments whenever something even remotely queer could possibly be interpreted. Dream had never felt confident in saying anything, when he had first started finding attraction to boys, he tried to bury the feelings. Hide it in teasing, and making fun with them, he pretended it was just because they were friends, and he liked his friends. He had never actually declared he was gay, or anything else for that matter. Let alone verbally saying it. George took his staring and sudden silence perhaps offensively, as he crossed his arms.

“What? Do you have a problem with my flag?” George asked as he stuffed a few papers into a desk drawer, shooting a side look at Dream. 

Dream froze, and found himself at a momentary loss of words, and he had clearly put George in a very awkward position. Surely the boy had faced his own fair share of homophobes in his lifetime, and Dream didn’t want to sound like one. 

“No no! It’s not that I swear I’m not some douche.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair, “I’ve just.. .I’ve never seen one in person.” He admitted quietly. 

“Seen one in person. Wow. That’s nice. How ‘bout you just unpack or something.” He sat down on the couch. 

He felt guilt bubble in his chest at George's harsh tone, although in fairness just moments before he had been behaving the exact same. He went and grabbed his two items and began sorting through his things, after several long and awkward moments, he finally managed to speak, barely trusting his voice.

"I am too." He spoke quietly, barely anything more than a hoarse whisper.

“You’re what? Gay?” With a furrowed brow, he looked up at the boy in the thick hoodie. “Are you making fun of me?” He asked him skeptically.

"What?" Dream shook his head and put his head in his hands with a sigh, "I'm. ..I'm so sorry, that's not. .." He rubbed his face and closed his eyes, "I'm not mocking you, just. . .I've never, never actually. . .I've not you know actually come. . .come out to anyone." He was struggling, and practically felt like crying but he didn't want to let this practically stranger see him cry.

George crossed his arms on his chest, and still seemed to be doubting Dream as he looked over his new roommate. Dream just wanted to push restart on this whole situation at this point, he had made a mess, sure he didn’t want to stay here, but this isn’t how he wanted to leave either. Nearly crying, on the couch, sounding like a homophobe to this boy he barely knew? That wasn’t a good look, or a good feeling for him and his throat felt tight as he just tried to keep his eyes on his things. Things didn’t have feelings, they didn’t judge you. Dream wished he was things.

“Oh. . . oh. Wait, you're being serious. Look, I wasn’t trying to be a prick.” He stood up, taking a step towards Dream. “Is this really the first time you’ve told someone?”

Dream nodded, not daring to look up at his new roommate, both in shame, and guilt. Why couldn’t he have just at least tried to be nice at first, maybe then he wouldn’t be in this situation. A new school, new roommate, and a new home and already it was on a rocky start. He was supposed to be the cool kid, the bad boy, and here he was crying to his new roommate within fifteen minutes of walking in. What a record. Without asking, George moved up to him and wrapped his arms around him, which surprised Dream, but he didn’t push George away. 

“It’s okay, let it all out. It’s tough.” He said kindly. 

Dream tried to force away his feelings, what a terrible way to meet someone, talk about first introductions. He hesitantly returned and leaned into the hug before pulling away, and wiping his eyes he tried to keep his voice steady, "I'm . . .I'm sorry for being an ass when I arrived."

“Don’t worry about it. I get it all the time.” He patted his back gently.

He laughed a little, "Yeah but I just met you. Man, talk about first introductions, going from cold to crying." He sighed, taking a deep breath and calming himself down, "Thanks George."

He nodded to Dream, “Don’t mention it.” 

George offered a small smile again, and this time, Dream returned the expression. Well at least he didn’t sound like a douchebag anymore, which was a plus. George patted his back again, before pulling away, and helping Dream sort through his things and unpack, George did most of the talking, but Dream was more than happy to just listen to the other boy talk. 


	2. Welcome - From Georgie

When George had been asked if he would be willing to help with a ‘problematic’ transfer student, he initially had happily agreed. After all, judging on what they told him, it just sounded like another boy who was bored, and plus it meant he would get a roommate. So he had accepted, and had worked to at least try and keep the dorm semi-clean. Of course try was the key word here, since he’d never been all that great at keeping things tidy, hopefully his roommate wouldn’t mind too much. If he was being honest, he didn’t know very much about this boy, so he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, so he tried to learn a bit more. The email with the details of the agreement had said that the boy was a Watcher. 

“Are you sure about wanting to take this on George?” Mr. Carpenter, one of the staff over student housing, looked at him concerned. 

“Of course! After all, how cool will it be to meet a Watcher?” George offered his best smile. 

Mr. Carpenter didn’t seem convinced, but he sighed as he clicked something on his computer, “Just - keep yourself safe okay? The Eastern Districts don’t really have a whole lot of Watchers compared to our diverse Player and Admin population, and I don’t want a good kid like you getting hurt. I’ll send you an email with all the details later tonight.” 

George beamed and nodded, “Thank you sir! Have a good day!” He hopped up waving, and the man nodded back to him. 

He frowned a bit as he stared at the message on the screen, trying to remember what he had learned about the Watcher race. They weren’t really covered in his history of races class in high school, only briefly touched on, and he hadn’t ever met one at least to his knowledge. He knew plenty about players, which were the most diverse, and least magical race, and could spout verses on Admins, but Watchers his teachers had avoided like there was something wrong with them. So he went with the next best resource, the internet. 

From what he understood from the mix of his past class, and the articles online, they were a much smaller race compared to Players, or Admins. Which was a whole different ordeal, but at least he was educated on those. Watchers originally came from the Nether dimension, and most still lived there. Which would explain why he’d never met one since he never bothered traveling out of his few factions he had ever lived in, let alone an entirely different dimension. He did note that the Western Districts were pretty densely populated with the species though. He looked over the scribbled notes he had made. Watchers were supposedly a race made and raised for combat, which meant they were naturally stronger, and probably taller. There was something about wings too? But that had become confusing the further he dug into the rituals with that, so he had quickly abandoned that rabbit hole. One thing he had noted was that much like an Admin, they didn’t have respawns like players, but did have magic. He idly wondered what kind of magic his roommate would have, he also thought over whether his roommate would be good in combat, since his species was one originating for war and battalions. 

When his new living space buddy actually arrived, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but the literal mountain in his doorway was _certainly_ not it. 

The boy in front of him was tall, no he was _huge_. Towering over George by at least a foot. The strange blond had to be well over six and a half feet, and he had large dark violet nearly black wings which were tensely folded behind him. His eyes were a rich yellow, so he assumed they were green, and he was wearing a nearly identical in color hoodie, but it was much brighter. He adjusted his glasses and had to tilt his head upwards to see the other’s freckle spattered face, which had a long scar which trailed upward from underneath his jaw to his cheek bone. When he spoke he had a distinct American accent, maybe from the Western District? George wasn’t sure, as he didn’t know American accents as well as the British Faction ones. One thing was that the blond was admittedly pretty good looking, but he had shoved that thought away pretty fast and awkwardly from his mind.

It was a rocky start, his introduction to the other. He had seemed reserved and quiet at first, and when George had noticed him staring at the folded pride flag on his couch, every red flag was raised in his mind, he had encountered his fair share of homophobes, and he wasn’t about to put up living with one. Thankfully that didn’t seem to be the issue, but either way things were tense between him and Dream. So the conversation had fizzled into simple nods or one word answers for the rest of the night. Dream was currently in the other room most likely unpacking.

He was lying on his bed that night, arms folded on his chest holding his phone, and staring up at the ceiling. Dream was a bizarre character in his mind, a Watcher moving to the Eastern American District for disciplinary issues, who obviously had some deep rooted personal issues between his behavior he had only loosely been told about, and his total of two conversations since the blond had arrived earlier that same day. He rolled over on his side, boring himself to sleep with some mindless internet to get him to actually fall asleep. 

He woke the next morning to a quiet voice who sounded like they were on the phone. He slowly sat up rubbing his eyes, and glancing at the time. It was a Saturday, so no classes or combat lessons, but his roommate was up and leaning on the counter on the phone with someone. Even slouching as he was, the boy was tall. The Eastern Districts in general were pretty sparse in the Watcher population, so he had never met one in person, although supposedly his principal to the school was one. 

“Yeah, I’m all moved in. . . .No, he’s fine.” He watched as Dream grimaced at something said on the phone, “Look, I already told you don’t call me that. No. . . Dad, no, stop. Stop it. . . I’m going to hang up. . .bye.” 

The Watcher huffed and turned his phone off with a frown, George hesitantly stepped into the kitchen, “Who was that?” 

“My father.” 

“Do you two not get along?” 

Dream paused looking at George hesitantly, “No, we haven’t really seen eye to eye for several years. This is the first phone call that’s been directly to just me for the first time since he left us.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” 

“Nah, don’t apologize for someone else being an ass.” Dream joked lightly, “Besides, I don’t need him to be happy, I’ve got friends, and now I’ve got a roommate.” 

George smiled warmly, and also happy to change off the topic where he could tell was treading on nerves, “Well, thanks? I guess, hey Dream are you hungry?” 

“Starving.” 

George went about getting a few of his scant ingredients he did have for making slightly nicer meals than raunchy mac and cheese, or chicken nuggets. He made some pancakes, and Dream settled at the table, on his phone and texting someone. As he was waiting to flip a pancake he felt his own device buzz. Pulling it out he saw a notification across the top. 

_You have been invited to join_ **_Two Nerds and Dream_ **

He looked up to see Dream snickering at the phone, and when he unlocked it the second “nerd” as the name implied was Sapnap. He wasn’t terribly close with the fire loving boy, but they were loose friends, and would usually work on projects together. He looked at the screen to see Sapnap had been given the nick _Firenap_. 

**_Firenap:_ ** _Oh not fair! If you do that then_

He watched as a few dots appeared, and saw another number he didn’t have saved appear. He assumed that it was Dream, and was adding it to his phone when another notification popped up across the top. 

_Group name has been changed to_ **_The Crack Den_ **

**_Firenap:_ ** _Damn first name was too long_

 **_Dream:_ ** _Still a nerd, just now you aren’t outnumbered_

George typed a quick response, looking up at Dream who was still grinning down at the screen. 

**_RoomNoot:_ ** _Yo_

 **_Firenap:_ ** _Wait George is your roommate big D?_

 **_Dream:_ ** _Don’t call me that_

 **_Dream:_ ** _And yee, he’s p chill._

 **_Firenap:_ ** _George! You have the power, give Dream a dumb name_

_Group name has been changed to_ **_No Choice But 2B Here_ **

**_RoomNoot:_ ** _I’m not clever enough :p_

 **_Firenap:_ ** _I’ve got it, that was the group name lol._

**_Firenap_ ** _has changed_ **_Dream_ ** _’s nick to_ **_The Green Giant_ **

He rolled his eyes and turned the phone off going back to making breakfast while his phone buzzed with a few more messages presumably between Sapnap and Dream. Eventually he ran out of batter that he had made, so he hauled his small stack of flapjacks over to the table, and then brought over syrup, plates, and utensils. Dream had set his own phone aside as George set the table. He watched helplessly as Dream drowned his pancakes in syrup. 

“You want some pancakes with that syrup?” He teased 

“You just have british taste buds.” Dream retorted smiling. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“Y’know, just like, ah yes, butter noodles, how spicy.” 

“Fuck you those are good!” George pointed an accusing fork at Dream, who was poorly imitating his accent and wheezing. 

Dream sounded like a tea kettle finishing as he wheezed laughing across the table. For a moment, he was almost worried about the man’s lungs, but when Dream finally composed himself they went back to eating before he broke the silence again. 

“So, you and Sapnap? Were you guys like. . .” He trailed off looking expectantly at the Watcher. 

“Huh? Oh.” Dream blinked with a mouth full of food, which he swallowed first, “Well, he and I have been friends for . . .for about as long as I can remember to be honest. We practically grew up together, and then a little over a year ago his family moved with his mom’s work, so we lost touch. But hey, look at it this way, now we attend the same school, so technically our friendship is saved.” 

“It was in danger?” 

“What? Oh, no it. . .I was making a joke.” 

George raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him as Dream went back to his food. The two didn’t talk much for the rest of the day, with Dream falling back into that quiet, cold shoulder sort of attitude. He didn’t exactly blame him, but it was mildly annoying only getting grunts, yes, and no’s as an answer. But at least the group chat was a step in the right direction. He was picking up his room when he heard keys in the lock of the dorm. He heard Dream walk in sounding like he was on the phone again, his tone was neutral but as George looked out his doorway, he saw the scowl on the blond's face. 

“No, I understand that this is supposed to be good for me, but - no it’s not that. Dad stop. Dad listen to me.” He saw the Watcher’s lip curl, “I will end this call right now if you don’t stop calling me that. No! No I don’t give a flying fuck if you’re my fucking principal, that doesn’t mean anything to me! And if you don’t stop fucking calling me - NO! No, You listen to me -!” 

George even flinched from the harsh snarl that edged the others words, and he noticed Dream had a small set of fangs, which he knew Sapnap (who was half Admin) also sported a similar set of sharpened canines. Dream’s gaze flicked to him briefly, and his cold glare turned softer for a moment. 

“Dad, I’m ending this call.” Dream snapped again, immediately hanging up and shook his head with a sigh. “I’m so sorry about bringing that home George.” 

George shrugged simply and the other looked just about ready to hurl his device into a wall. Dream turned it off, and stalked into his room, and only after several long moments did Dream’s words from his half of the conversation register. 

Dream’s father was the _Hawkford’s Principal._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the small mistake of messing up Sap's ancestry lol, it's what I get for being irresponsible and having 4 separate stories going all at once :p 
> 
> We have a discord too btw! https://discord.gg/4KQYZ9t


	3. Oops

It was about a week into the semester at this point, and George found himself slowly warming up to his tree of a roommate. Dream eventually seemed to drop his cold attitude as well, and the environment between them had become more relaxed. He liked it.

One thing about Dream that always made him stick out was his traits of his race. Granted George was half Watcher as well, he had also never grown up with that culture, or with any Watchers around in his life. He himself being half player barely had any outward appearances of one, let alone their magic. But with Dream, he was a purebred, for lack of a better term. A Watcher through and through, and in the Eastern American district, they were few and far between, which often led to tensions between the races. 

Dream never wanted to talk about it, but he was naturally skilled in combat, his height and strength gave him an almost unfair advantage in sparring matches with other students. Watchers were a race born from war. They were ancient magicians that eventually became their own race. But their first, and entire purpose, had been almost solely for combat, for violence, and war. People still held these thoughts about the race as well, Players were often taught to be afraid of a Watcher. That they were dangerous and unruly, and Admins (a race of creationists and peace) looked down on other Watchers. Dream pretended that people didn't stare, didn't whisper about him in the hall, but they did, and even George wanted to tune out the murmurings.

Since outwardly he didn't look like a Watcher, most people had no idea of his half breed nature, and after hearing what other apprentices would say about Dream, well he wanted to keep things that way. He wasn't ashamed of it, no he wanted to learn more about them, to understand his heritage better, but kids can be oh so cruel, and he'd had plenty of times already of being on the blunt end of their bats. He shrugged off his small bag as he settled into his seat for his magics class.

Dream settled into a seat next to him at the conjoined table, and kept his head down focusing on his own work in front of him. This didn't stop George from seeing the girl next to him scoot her chair away though. It wasn't fair how Watchers were treated in the East, both by peers, or just general groups. He thought back to one of the last times his mother had openly discussed his father with him.

* * *

9 years ago

* * *

_George gingerly picked up one of the few framed images in their household of the man he was supposed to call 'dad'. He looked a lot like his father, pale skin, shaggy brown hair, and dark eyes. Yet the man in the photo was far older._

_The picture was of his parents standing together underneath a large dark oak tree. The man was dressed somewhat nicely, in a gray button up shirt, and slacks. His hair was combed to the side in a futile effort to contain his curls. He was grinning warmly, his eyes crinkled in the corners, and dimples in his cheeks. He was older than George sure, but he was still a young man in the image. He would pass as perfectly normal if it weren't for the large black wings that were semi extended behind him. He had one arm and a wing gently holding his mother, who had her own arm around his waist._

_"Mom, why don't you ever talk about dad?" It was a bit blunt of a question, but curiosity was getting the better of him._

_His mother looked up from the grilled cheese sandwiches she was making in the kitchen, a sadness passing over her freckled expression, and a somber smile. "Georgie, your father was an amazing person, but unfortunately the world didn't see him the same."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because he was different I suppose." She turned off the cooker and set his sandwich on a plate, "And some people just didn't like different, and I don't want people to not like you over something you can't change."_

_George paused thinking over her words, "Is it because daddy was a watch?"_

_She laughed warmly and sat across from him at the table shaking her head, "I think you mean a Watcher, and sadly yes. Now how about a sandwich?"_

_Just like that she was able to steer the topic away and out of the young boy's mind, prompting him to talk about schooling, friends, or whatever else. She hadn't wanted to burden her young boy with the pain of his heritage, and he was too young to understand most of it. They never did talk about his dad much._

_That was one thing he wanted to talk about for real, he wanted to know why his dad was gone, and why people didn't like him just because of what he was. He wanted to know what was so wrong with being a Watcher that his dad had been 'taken away too soon' as his mom put it. He wasn't sure at this age what that meant._

A droning and monotone voice dragged him back to the present, mostly against his will. "Mrs. Sanchez can you please send Clay Taken to the principal's office." 

George wrinkled his nose a bit, he was almost certain that name didn't belong to anyone in the class. He glanced around the room for someone named Clay, only to be genuinely shocked as Dream stood up. The blond shouldered his bag and nodded silently to the teacher. Judging by Dream's expression, he was less than happy about that little announcement. He felt torn, wanting to try and reach out and comfort his roommate, but also the confusion setting in. Dream hasn't told George much about his personal life (other than the slip up with the phone call a few days ago, which Dream had refused to acknowledge yet), but he also had claimed his name was Dream. Plus that's what all the teachers would call him too. He reached a hand out, fingers barely grazing his freckled arm, but Dream stopped nonetheless.

"Hey Dream, if… if after this you want to talk, I'm here if you want." He wasn't sure what prompted him to say it, but the words felt natural.

Dream smiled a little, it wasn't a very big smile, barely noticeable, but his green eyes shined with warmth, and his expression seemed to soften slightly. He gently pulled away and nodded one last time to their teacher before departing for whatever calling it was into the principal's. Once Dream had left, the girl moved her chair back to its original placement, and leaned over whispering.

"Isn't Taken our principal's name too?" She asked watching the doorway as if expecting Dream to burst right back through it.

"Yeah it is." George kept his eyes on his work, he already didn't like this girl from her attitude towards Dream, "He's his son." 

The girl gaped silently for a moment, scooting a bit closer to George, "That thing is the principal's son?!"

George frowned, "That thing is a person, and he has feelings too you know." 

"So? What do you care? He's a Watcher," she scoffed, "and you've heard the stories! They're unstable."

"He is actually a really nice guy if you can stop being an asshole." He snipped back coldly.

"Oh don't tell me you're defending him now? What next, going to become a tree hugger?"

"Fuck off Julie."

"Make me."

George sneered, whipping around on his chair, two seconds from bitch slapping a fully deserving of it bitch. His chair scraped loudly on the floor and the teacher turned to the bickering students crossing her arms.

"George, Julie, that is quite enough. Julie; I never want to hear you talk like that about another student again." 

George smirked a little proudly as the girl hunched slightly from the scolding.

"And George; you need to curb your temper and your language, do both of you understand?"

Both students nodded as she resumed her lesson, and George kept his eyes on his work. Although he was still slightly bristling from Julie's comments about Dream. He was a nice guy, he was patient with George, humble, and - and good looking. George pushed his thoughts away quickly. Refusing to let his mind run with it any longer, Dream wasn't going to see him that way, probably ever. Especially since it had barely been a week since either of them met.

_Stars_ what was wrong with him? Barely knowing some boy for a week and he's already fallen hard with a crush, he was a gay disaster to say the least. He kept repeating the text lines on his pages to keep any thoughts of Dream (or Clay?) out of his brain, it wasn't working very well though. The class concluded with no sign of Dream returning, and a bit of concern bubbled in him. Maybe he was overthinking things, or maybe he was getting overly worried over what could be nothing, but regardless he sent a fast text to their group chat in an attempt to figure out what had happened. 

(italics - Dream, bold - Sapnap, normal - George)

Hey, what’s going on? Dream got called to the principals. 

**Oh shit**

**Reaaly?**

**Maybe its nothing idk i mean if its just his dad I’m sure he’s fine**

So his dad is the principal

I’m just worried bc he got called in over an hour ago

_I’m fine, heading back to class now._

**DREAM**

Dream? 

Hey can we talk when youre home?

George watched as the three dots indicating Dream was typing appeared and disappeared, and then without replying his little green icon went gray indicating he went offline. He sent another text privately to just Dream, but got no response, and a bit of frustration joined his worry. But, if Dream wasn’t going to reply to him, then he was just stuck and would have to wait until he returned back to their dorm after classes. 

He found himself distracted throughout his history class with Mr. Soot, and hadn’t been paying much attention to the lesson. Frequently glancing down at his communicator to see if he had gotten a response, only to be disappointed every time. His last class of the day was Server Sciences, which he normally would share with Dream, but there was no sign of his buddy. There was no way a visit to the principal's visit (even when it was your dad) lasted several hours, he found himself drumming his fingers on the desk, and bouncing his leg while taking notes, unable to keep himself focused on the topic. When the last bell of freedom rang, he practically knocked over his chair with how fast he bolted up and out of that room. 

He would go straight to their dorm, if Dream had just chosen to skip classes, that was where he would be right? He fumbled with his keys for a moment as he unlocked the door, and glanced around. It was no different than how it had been this morning, and it was coldly empty. George stepped in gingerly, and called out. 

“Dream? Are you home?” 

There was no response, and he found himself starting to panic. Why was he so worried over someone he’d barely known a few weeks? At first, he tried to ignore it, logic the issue away and out of his mind, but just as he was about to go and scour the campus for his missing friend, the doorway opened to the dorm, and Dream walked in silently. For being as tall as he was, he was surprisingly silent on his feet. 

Dream was wearing a simple black tank top that clung to his upper body, and jeans, his wings were folded against his back, and hair was messy and strands stuck to his face. George looked him over, and noticed the exhaustion that seemed to be clinging to the other, as well as his wrapped hands. Dream leaned against the counter, and began removing the bandages, he wasn’t hurt so why had he - ? 

Combat. 

It was the only logical answer he could think of, especially since Dream’s knuckles were a bit scraped up, and he wasn’t wearing his usual hoodie. Dream barely gave him a second glance, and then moved to head to his room as he threw away the white wrappings. 

“Wait!” George blocked his path, he wanted to talk, and he was going to talk. 

Dream leveled his gaze with a stony expression, even hunched the Watcher was well over a foot taller than George, and he grumbled quietly, “Why?” 

“I - I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?” Great back to one word answers. 

“About your dad, and. .and why did you just vanish after being called to the office? You just ditched classes! I was worried about you!” 

Dream raised an eyebrow silent for a moment, “So?” He then moved and tried to brush past George to his bedroom. 

He reached out to stop him, and grabbed blindly, Dream yelped as he got a fistfull of something soft. The blond had turned on his heels, and was rubbing a part of one of his wings, a fire in his eyes as he glared at George. 

“What the hell dude?! Feathers have nerves you know.” 

George had stopped him, that’s what mattered, “I said I wanted to talk to you, I’m not - I’m not some threat, and I don’t want to upset you.” 

“I don’t care, I don’t want to talk.” 

“What? Why not? I’m - I’m just trying to have a conversation, I was worried about you! You just. . .just vanished without a word, a message, and I was worried!” 

Dream seemed to pause, and studied his expression for a long moment, “You were worried about me?” His voice was tinged with disbelief that the other was clearly trying to hide. 

“Yes! Where were you? You can’t just vanish!” 

“You aren’t my parent.” 

George huffed, frustration and tension bubbling and spilling over when he spoke, “No I’m not! That’s exactly it! You’re treating me like I’m out to get you like everyone else at this school, and you don’t talk to me, you drop some huge bombshell like ‘hey by the way my father is also our principal’ and then just pretend like nothing happened! I’m - I want to be your friend Dream! Why can’t you just understand that I’m nothing like your father, and yet you’ve almost treated me the exact same!” 

The words hung in the air, before Dream growled softly, “You have no proof that you aren’t just going to drop me the instant you can just like everyone else in my life! I don’t want to be your friend, especially if that’s just going to hurt me! You had no right to know about my dad, and that was an accident.” 

“Well I did hear about it! Why can’t you just talk to me like. . .like a normal person?!” His voice raised in volume, “You act like I’m going to try and stab you in your sleep or something, and it doesn’t matter how nice I am, you just don’t care!” 

“I do care! I’m talking to you now, aren’t I? Plus what right do you have to dictate where I go? If I want to ditch class because I’m stressed, and freaked out, then I can, you don’t control me.” Dream’s voice was getting louder as well. 

“I know I don’t! I don’t want to! I just want to know you’re okay!” He yelled back. 

“Why?! You’ve known me for 3 fucking weeks, you don’t know shit about me.” 

“That’s why I want to know you, you act like you’re some kind of caged animal, I’m trying to talk to you because I care about you Clay!” 

The name was a slip, his mind was running a million miles an hour, and he didn’t think before speaking. Dream stiffened in front of him, bristling now and his lip curled in a silent snarl. For a moment he was worried Dream was going to hit him, he certainly looked like he wanted to deck George, he winced cringing for a blow. But nothing came, Dream slammed his bedroom door loud enough that its hinges rattled in protest. George was left standing in the living room, guilt replacing any resentment from before as he just stared helplessly at the now shut door. Words unspoken were left feeling bitter in his mouth and heavy, words he didn’t even fully know if they were his or not. 

_Because I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I've not forgotten about this and my bdoc fic! Just been busy and writers block is a bitch with these stories lol.


	4. Humming Melodies

Dream pulled his shirt off as he tried to calm himself. He knew he’d been closed off from his roommate, but he was so sick of being tossed back to the curb after working his ass off for trust, and he wasn’t about to let another person into his life just to break his heart again. He’d taken a risk years ago with some others, and he wasn’t about to stick his neck out like that again. 

_Because I care about you Clay!_

Not to mention that! He hated being referred to like that, at least when it came to others, hell he didn’t even like being called Clay by his mom, least of all his father. Why couldn’t George just keep his nose out of things that weren’t his problems. He listened to footsteps as they paced in the living room, and shook his head as he changed from his damp with sweat tank top. He held the wad of dark cloth in his hands, his eyes trailing the form in the mirror. 

He was no stranger to combat, when he was younger, he had often participated in underground fighting rings. Nothing serious, and granted it was probably illegal, but he had enjoyed it. That was another reason he was angry about moving all the way to the Eastern American District. He had built a reputation, he was a fighter, there he was Dream, the faceless combatant that could take on almost anyone. He’d only ever been beaten once, against a hybrid named Techno. 

The ring was his home, and it was also a way for him to destress. Of course, years of fighting behind his mother’s back, and under the law’s nose, left him with several scars that mottled his body. 

He flexed his wings a bit, sitting at the edge of his bed, and putting his head in his hands. 

He’d probably just ruined everything. He’d probably just angered his roommate, and almost certainly would be receiving a notice of transfer in a weeks time. 

The second reason he didn’t want to let someone in, he didn’t want to hurt someone. He hadn’t wanted to break someone, he never wanted to be the reason for another person’s sorrow and heartache. Now he’d done exactly that, he’d hurt George. He’d started to open up, just to shut him off again. 

The walls were collapsing and he was suffocating in the rubble as his lungs filled with the sand of heartache. All because of George. George, George, George, and he hated it. He wanted to hate it, he wanted to shut the british boy out, close him off and keep them segregated. Yet he repeatedly just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

George had wormed his way into his life, and was sticking like an annoying, lovable burr. Dream closed his eyes, and threaded his fingers through his dirty blonde locks, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Of course apologizing was going to solve the problem right now, but what about tomorrow? Saturday? Two weeks from now? 

Who was he fooling? 

Himself hopefully. 

He changed, and put on a more comfortable blue hoodie, and grey sweatpants, laying down on his bed, and staring up at the ceiling of his room. Green eyes tracing invisible lines in the popcorn patterned ceiling as if the lines would shift and reveal a hidden message to him. Shockingly, it didn’t happen. 

So instead he started trying to put words to emotions, string sentences together using the colors and imagery in his mind. He lay there, eyes closing as he put his earbuds in, letting himself get lost in the music. 

_Super silence in the quiet_

_Eye inside the storm_

_Water from your broken iris_

_Fall toward the floor_

He cared about George, maybe too much, he wanted to make things last with him. The boy who he lived with had made him feel in ways he hadn’t for so long, and he was afraid. He didn’t want to open himself, peel away the layers to reveal the raw and painful emotions. The visceral feelings, and heartbreak. 

_Everything, waiting, shaking as it drops_

_I tried for you and I, for too hard, for too long_

_Gave it all and everything for more time, but I lost_

He didn’t want to forget this, to give it up just because he ended up confessing. To crash down the world around him just for feelings. Disgusting vile feelings. He wanted to ignore them, to pretend he wasn’t so touch starved that when George would casually lean on him during movie time he wanted to lean into the touch and hold him close. 

_Ooh, we're breaking down_

_Whispers would deafen me now_

How much longer until it all crashed down? How much longer until he destroyed this just like everything else? How much longer could he keep lying? Him gritting his teeth, and refusing to acknowledge his emotions. Dream clutched his device that played the gentle melodies. The band was one George had introduced him to last week. To think only a few weeks into the semester, and he was already falling hard for his roommate. The words were soft and gentle, soothing in an entrancing way. 

_You don't make a sound_

_Heartbreak was never so loud_

Oh how much truth those lyrics held. Dream sighed softly letting his head rest on the pillow after rolling onto his stomach, and letting his wings relax, folding around him like fuzzy blankets. There was still a slight dull sting where George had accidentally pulled a few feathers during their argument, but that felt minute and obsolete with everything else that had happened. 

The next thing he was aware of was the sweet scent of pizza drifting in from the front room, it roused him from some nap he must’ve succumbed to when he was laying down earlier. He got up with a stretch, back arching and wings unfurling with cramped muscles. He made his way out of his small attached room and looked towards the main area. 

In there George was setting down the pizza box, and looked up seeming surprised to see Dream up, and out of his room. 

“Hey, I was just going to go check on you.” He laughed awkwardly, “Are you hungry?” 

The air was still tense with the fight from earlier, but as his stomach rumbled he shuffled into the front area, and sat across from the brunette. Both ate in silence for several long beats, until the other finally broke it by setting his food down and clearing his throat. 

“Dream . .. I’m sorry, for upsetting you.” 

The blond looked up, “It’s. . .it’s alright, I shouldn’t have snapped like I did.” 

George gave him a small and patient smile, “I think we were both just high strung, and we both just kinda snapped.” 

“Yeah, look I’m sorry too.” 

“For?” 

“For treating you so harshly, I’ve shut you out for a while ever since moving in, and you’ve been nothing but kind with me.” Dream returned the small smile, “Thank you for that.” 

“Of course, after all at the end of the day, you’re still a person, even if people out here treat you differently, I don’t think what you look like, or where you’re from should change how you’re treated.”

Dream nodded a little, and the conversation puttered to a stop, both of them eating in mostly silence yet again, until that too became unbearable yet again. 

“George,” Dream started as he cleared his plate and sat back down, “I. . “ He stopped himself, suddenly incredibly uncertain of his own words and feelings. 

“Yeah?” The british boy looked up slightly confused from his communicator. 

“I wanted to just say thank you for. . .your patience with me.” 

Once again he was backing down from a confession. It wasn’t needed he resolved, after all you two are barely just friends. So instead he came up with some half hearted lame ass sentence that his brain strung together. 

George just shrugged with a small noise, “It’s really. . fine, just decency I suppose, but you’re welcome. Although the only thing I ask is for you to be a little less distant.” 

“Deal.” Dream smiled genuinely this time. 

_Two hearts folding_

_Pulling everything_

Feelings and confessions could be put off for another day, for a time less hostile, safer, more secure. Although of course, there was no guarantee that that time would ever come.

Instead he decided to just relax, watching some shitty lifetime tv show that neither he nor George were all that interested in, but both enjoyed mocking it, and making jokes at the actors expense. As time ticked by, the tension trickled out from between them, lifting from Dream’s shoulders and calming frayed nerves. 

Eventually they both called it a night, with the argument seemingly resolved, and anger dissipated, they both went to their own room, and were left to their own devices. During the time, Dream let his mind wander again, his phone on his nightstand, playing the same song from earlier, although it was purely coincidence since he had just clicked shuffle to his playlist. 

_I'm breaking down_

He shut his eyes, pulling his blankets close and around him, his wings curled against his sides, creating a comforting warmth. Although he couldn’t help but imagine it being a real person at his side. It wasn’t a first he’d created that thought, but it was a first for who it was. George at his side, curled against him, his warm breath against Dream’s chest. 

His soft face nuzzled under his chin, and their bodies intertwined, the british boy at his side was snuggled into him, clinging like his life depended upon it, and his face looked so peaceful. Blissful and mellow as he slept. In his thoughts Dream gently tilted his face upward, hand cupping his smaller face and his other arm holding the older’s small frame. From there he leaned down to - 

His eyes flew open, and the thoughts vanished as he sat up, breathing hard and heart pounding in his chest. In doing so, a few dark feathers were pulled by his frantic movement, and he hissed in pain as his mind was fully brought back to reality. He rubbed his eyes, looking at the clock. 

**2:11 am.**

Had he really dreamt that? 

He must’ve drifted off at some point. His playlist was still going, and the soft lyrics were the only disturbance to the silent night that now blanketed their dorm. He rubbed his eyes and reached for the device as the words came back into clarity. 

_I think this time I'm dying_

_I think I've lost my mind_

_Blurring the fact and the fiction_

_Whilst simultaneously fixing_

_Myself up -_

He smacked the mute button, and paused the music, was the universe determined to just play music to torment him and his thoughts? It certainly felt like it. He swallowed thickly, setting the device back down as he rolled over in bed. His arms now wrapped around himself, and he grounded himself back in reality. 

Normally nights were plagued with nightmares, sometimes of him in the ring, and never winning, sometimes he was on a beach, helpless and unarmed as he watched himself emerge from the woods, bloody and wielding an axe. It was few and far between for the more peaceful and calming kind of night time movies. But this past week had been a break in that never ending cycle. 

George. 

The boy had infiltrated every particle of his being, and he felt so stupid and so warm thinking about it. He had fallen hard for the other, sure, he knew that, but he didn’t want to tell a soul. He huffed a bit as he rolled to his side, his internal turmoil fighting for his attention over sleep. Tonight had been the fourth in a row of these kinds of dreams. Granted some had been broken up with the usual and far more familiar nightmarish images, other times they had been far less pg. But the fact that George had been there. Been there so many times, it felt so strange. 

He wasn’t sure what to think about it either. 

He tossed to his left, and then back to his right as he tried to get comfortable again, or at least finding the lack thereof. Eventually he gave up on it when he finally cracked an eye open to check the time, only to see a glaring 2:55 from a bright as Jesus glowing white screen. He threw his head back with a groan. 

These things were going to tear him apart, or they were going to end everything he’d built since moving here a month ago. Either way, one thing he was certain about was he was never _ever_ telling George. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back? Back again :)
> 
> The two songs referenced in this are  
> It's All So Loud - Glass Animals  
> Saline Solution - Wilbur Soot


	5. A/N

Sorry for the note! But I'm changing the name of this book, I feel like this one fits much better over "The Magic That Fuels Us". Don't worry! Still the same book, and you aren't crazy :)

**Author's Note:**

> I am irresponsible with goblin hands and you guys cannot stop me as I start another fic :3


End file.
